


Hip Hip, Huzzah!

by Arlome



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 10:37:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12604700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlome/pseuds/Arlome
Summary: In which the entire Crew of HMS Travail finds out exactly why Dr. Enys was granted a 24-hour shore leave.





	Hip Hip, Huzzah!

**Author's Note:**

> This sat in my head and simply had to be written. I do hope you enjoy reading it.

The great noise coming from the deck reached him in his cramped little cabin. 

The flickering lantern swung violently from the beam at the ceiling, casting blotches of accidental, pale light on his book; thus abstracting his attempts at reading. Dwight closed his eyes wearily and leaned back in his chair. The heat today was exceptionally stifling, making him sweat and overheat like an overcooked piglet. His discarded cravat lay in a crumpled heap inside his hammock, his jacket draped over the back of the chair with little to no care; the waistcoat lying idly on the edge of his table. The upper deck was being washed today, and Dwight was at the moment seriously contemplating running up the ladder and joining the men, if only for the chance to remove his shirt and perhaps receive a few droplets of much-needed water on his hot skin. Captain Harrington would not approve, of course; and would state that such actions were below the dignity of the Surgeon-Lieutenant, but Dwight liked to entertain the idea from time to time nevertheless, especially on such hot days when the waters stood still, and the wind lay quiet.

Hurried footsteps thundered down the ladder closest to his cabin and Dwight, not yet opening his eyes, steeled himself for the inevitable call upon his services. No doubt one of the sailors tripped on the wet deck and broken a bone or two and was now in dire need of a cast and an extra ration of grog to alleviate the pain. However, two minutes later, the cabin door burst open to admit not the frightened request of a dazed Midshipman, but the booming, friendly and always welcome voice of 1st Lieutenant James Williams.

"Enys, my good man!" the Welshman cried eagerly, and Dwight smiled, imagining the man leaning against his doorway, "what are you doing below? Come up and join us on the upper deck, where the air is not so stiff and hot!"

The young surgeon finally opened his eyes to look at his friend who, sure enough, was leaning against the wooden frame as if it was the most comfortable bed in Christendom. The tall, dark-haired man had an easy-going air that made him likable both among the higher ranking officers and the low ranking sailors. He commanded respect and camaraderie wherever he went, and Dwight found a fast and amiable friend in him. 

"Williams," he acknowledged with a broad smile, "A fair day we are having, are we not?"

The Welshman snorted and shook his head.

"Of course we are," he replied sarcastically, "straight out of the Devil's mouth! 

Dwight noticed that Williams too was unburdened of the outer layers of his uniform and was in a similar state of undress as himself. Large beads of sweat trickled down the Lieutenant's long jaw, disappearing down the slope of his larynx and taking refuge in the forest of dark curls on the broad chest. Williams detached himself from the doorway and entered the tiny cabin, immediately dwarfing everything in it with his larger-than-life presence.

"Come on, Enys; I am here to rescue you from your pallid complexion." He urged, waving his long arms for emphasis, "We are sailors, man! We must be bronze-skinned and weather-beaten, or else we'll be dishonorably discharged from His Majesty's Navy!" 

Dwight laughed heartily and shook his head, sinking lower into his seat.

"Oh, your attempts at rescuing are much appreciated, my friend; but I really must try and read this chapter on the prevention of gangrene, else at the next action we shall all suffer."  
Williams let out a long, suffering breath and perched himself, uninvited but not unwelcome, on the edge of Dwight's desk.

"You've been acting strangely, Enys," he said suddenly, eyeing the surgeon suspiciously, "ever since that mysterious 24-hour shore leave when we dropped anchor at Falmouth to restock. You would not believe the speculations among the crew. I hear there is even a betting poll!"

Dwight laughed in astonishment and slapped his thigh in his amusement.

"A betting poll; how diverting! Tell me of the odds, Williams!"

The Lieutenant smirked and nodded. 

"Alright," he acquiesced, "but on one condition: you will tell me the real reason behind your hasty vacation; agreed?"

Dwight sank his teeth into his lower lip, biting off the smile that threatened to blossom into a love-sick grin whenever his shore leave was mentioned and shrugged helplessly. Williams' eyes glinted at the no doubt fascinating explanation for the mysterious absence that the surgeon took such pains to conceal. Reaching a decision, Dwight exhaled and, stealing a glance at the beaming Lieutenant, nodded resolutely. Williams crowed and clapped his hands in victory.

"Alright, alright," Dwight raised his hand for composure, "I will tell you, but I _must_ have your desecration, Williams!"

The Welshman nodded eagerly and folded his arms across his chest in mock obedience. Dwight, satisfied with the deal he had struck with his friend, jutted his chin in the man's direction.

"Now, what of the odds?"

Williams rubbed his chin thoughtfully and narrowed his eyes in thought.

"I do not know the precise _odds,_ but Master Rogers disclosed to me that he heard some of the men below taking bets and thinking up some rather fanciful reasons for your short absence. The Sailing Master was absolutely flushed when he recounted some of the versions the crew came up with! Now, if I recall correctly…there was a suggestion that you were taken ashore to deliver a royal bastard, another had you treating an entire convent of nuns for syphilis – do not ask me who thought of _that_ one – someone proposed that you had a lover in port and that the Captain, out of affection for you, allowed you to go and pay a visit; oh, there were others, far less fantastic suggestions, such as a dying great-aunt or a sudden need for an amputation ashore, but Master Rogers thought them too mundane for retelling." 

Dwight sat and stared at his friend with wide eyes and a gaping mouth; Williams laughed at his startled expression.

"Yes, the lads seem to have quite the imagination…" he nodded in agreement, "Well, I have done my part, now it is time for you to do yours, Doctor!"

The surgeon, still reeling from the quite bizarre scenarios presented to him by the Lieutenant, shook his head and chuckled nervously.

"Well, I am afraid that my real reason for going ashore will disappoint the men if they ever hear it," he said and smiled at Williams, "I did promise, so I shall tell you, my friend…" taking a deep breath, he plunged in, "I was granted 24 hour shore leave a fortnight ago to wed the most excellent, most brilliant woman to ever walk this earth."

Williams, amazed at the unexpected disclosure, jumped off the desk and stooped to shake Dwight by the shoulders.

"Disappointed by the news – how can you _say_ that?" he laughed in exhilaration, "Truly, Dwight; truly? Are you wed?"

The surgeon chuckled in elation and nodded amidst all the shaking; Williams pulled him to his feet and embraced him like a brother.

"Most wonderful news!" he cried and slapped Dwight on the back a couple of times, "most tremendous news, my good man! Wed, but a fortnight ago! Tell me of the lady; spare no detail!"

The surgeon looked at his eager friend and smiled playfully.

"Better yet," Dwight said, stepping away from the embrace and bending to his desk, "I will show you."

He opened the top drawer of the desk and retrieved from there a simple, golden oval-shaped locket on which the letters _D. E._ were unassumingly engraved. It was a man's locket, without the frivolous decorations or gemstones one would expect from an item belonging to a lady; no doubt, this precious piece was commissioned especially by a lover, as a token of undying affection. Dwight opened the locket in an almost religious awe and showed the other Lieutenant the contents with a little trepidation. Both inner sides were occupied by mementos of Mrs. Enys: on the right side, entombed forever behind a wall of delicate glass, was a golden lock of hair; on the left side was a miniature of a striking young lady. She was elegantly dressed in the latest fashion; her wheat-colored hair smartly done, with a single ringlet draped over her left shoulder. A little, fat pug was held close to her heart. Williams gaped.

"Enys," he muttered, awestruck, "you lucky devil."

Dwight laughed and nodded, returning the precious locket back into the drawer and closing it.

"Oh, I assure you, my friend," he said seriously, "I am well aware of my luck…" 

He settled back into his chair and stretched his legs before him; Williams, who was still a bit dazed from both the news and the unearthly beauty of his friend's new bride, remained standing. 

After a few moments of silence, Dwight said: "We were wed in secret; she – Caroline - is an heiress, you see, and I am but a penniless country doctor. We were supposed to elope about a year or so ago, but…certain circumstances prevented that, and we were estranged." He stopped and looked up at the Welshman, smiling, "this was when I made the choice to join the Navy….But Fate- or rather, a very dear friend- brought us back together before I was to sail, and we were reconciled; so, as soon as I heard that we were to restock at Falmouth, I threw myself at the mercy of our benevolent Captain and explained _everything;_ and, well, you know Harrington…he immediately acquiesced." 

Dwight looked down and nodded towards the top drawer.

_"That_ was made for me as a wedding gift for the first planned nuptials; but when the event was canceled…" he shrugged and smiled, "in any case, I had received this precious memento before I sailed to sea, and it never leaves my side. In action, I wear it against my heart, in case…" there Dwight grew silent for a moment, and looked somewhat pensive; then he shook his head, as if to clear his brain of unhealthy thoughts, and slapped his knees, "Well, there you have it, James; the reason for the hasty shore leave- I apologize if it is not as exciting as treating an entire convent of promiscuous nuns for syphilis."

Williams laughed good-naturedly and licked his lips.

"You jest, surely," he said and looked around the tiny cabin, "have you spirits, man? This wonderful news must be celebrated properly!"

Dwight jumped from his seat and reached high above his head to retrieve something from one of the top shelves. There, among the many bottles and phials with weird contents and even weirder names scribbled on them in the spidery handwriting of a doctor, stood a tall blue bottle, corked and clean. Dwight took it off the shelf and uncorked it with his teeth.

"I apologize for the uncouthness, Williams," he said sheepishly," I seem to lack clean cups...but if you but wait a moment, I am sure I-"

But Williams snatched the bottle out of Dwight's unresisting hands, cutting him off, and raised it in salute.

"To your health, my Good Doctor," he said amiably, "and to the lovely woman in that painting; May you live happily and grow old together, my friend."

He took a swig of drink, and so missed the way in which his heartfelt words moved the other man. Dwight ducked his head and blinked a few times to clear his vision. Williams thrust the bottle back into the surgeon's hands, and he took a sip; the strong liquid burned all the way down.

"Good stuff," said Williams appreciatively, "where did you get it?" 

Dwight lifted up the bottle and gave it a little shake; the light from the swinging lantern danced upon it, appearing to be forever trapped within.

"This?" he asked and offered the drink to Williams again, "My friend – the one who arranged my wedding – gave me this fine bottle of brandy as a gift. I'm glad you approve."

The Welshman took another swig and nodded.

"Well then," he said and raised the bottle a second time, "fine brandy calls for another toast, so here is to good Dr. Enys coming back safe from war and finding his lovely wife great with child!"

_No chance of that happening,_ thought Dwight regretfully as his friend took another hearty gulp of drink; but he smiled and nodded and drank to the impossible scenario of Caroline conceiving his child out of thin air when the bottle was offered to him. 

When Dwight returned the bottle to its rightful place, Williams said: "it is a shame that you only had one night with your bride…it must have been nigh on impossible for you to leave again, eh, old boy?"

Dwight smiled slightly and shrugged.

"In truth, I had only a quarter of a night with Caroline," he explained ruefully, "I was summoned to attend a premature birth, and by the time the lady was safely delivered of a healthy son, it was time to head back to Falmouth and rejoin you sorry lot. So, in reality, my 24-hour leave was much reduced."

Williams looked stricken.

_"Oh, Dwight,_ "he said with feeling, "you poor wretch! To be finally wed to this heavenly nymph only to be summoned from your marriage bed to deliver _someone else's_ child? 'Tis too much!"

Dwight laughed and shook both hands.

"No, no; I assure you, 'tis not!" he said and looked away, "you see, the lady who's child I delivered is a...friend; a woman whom I have always held in high esteem, and – not that I value my own proficiency too greatly – but in another physician's care she and the child might have died. Besides, the other doctors in the district were unavailable; I couldn't leave her unattended."

Williams placed his hand on Dwight's shoulder and shook him amicably.

"I do not doubt it, my friend," he agreed wholeheartedly, "I assure you, we sorry men of the _Travail_ feel our luck daily that you were appointed as surgeon to this old girl; no unneeded bleedings and purges, no heedless amputations. You, my Good Doctor, are an asset to the Navy." 

Dwight colored violently and turned away at such compliments. In truth, he did not feel as if he deserved them; only weeks ago he had to amputate a young Midshipman's leg above the knee, for gangrene has settled into the bone and threatened to infect the blood; the whole ordeal still gnawed on his conscience.

Williams cleared his throat.

"Well," he began in slight embarrassment, changing the course of the topic, "if we are still on the subject of births, then I would like to confess my sins…my dearest Susan confided in her last letter to me that we are to expect an addition to our family in six months' time." 

"James!" Dwight exclaimed, thumping the now sheepishly grinning Welshman on the back, "That is marvelous news indeed! I wish Mrs. Williams all the health in the world!" Then, recollecting something, he looked about him in dismay, "Oh, damn me; I've put the bottle away-"

"No matter," Williams interrupted him hurriedly, trying to put his friend at ease, "we shall raise a glass when the child is safely delivered. Now, as a matter of fact…" he stopped, hesitating slightly; but Dwight smiled encouragingly at the Lieutenant, his eyebrows arching slightly in question, and, finally determined, Williams continued: "If we are lucky to see the end of this bloody war by the time Suzy's confinement takes place, and we are safely back in England, I would like to hire your services, Enys; it will put my mind at ease to have you at the birth."

Dwight smiled embarrassedly and opened his mouth to protest and point out his imperfections as an accoucheur, but Williams put his hand up to stop him.

"Now, man; none of your modesty," he insisted, "we live in Falmouth, so it is not far from your own home in Sawle, and I am certain a few more days of separation from your darling nymph are a trial you can well endure. Come, Enys; you are the only man I'll trust to attend on my precious girl."

Dwight smiled at his friend and shrugged.

"Williams, what makes you so certain that your wife will want me? Perhaps she prefers one of the local physicians? Or, even, one of the women? I doubt she'll want a Navy surgeon at her childbed."

"Nonsense!" Williams cried, affronted on behalf of Dwight's medical skills, "once she'll hear that you'll not bleed or purge her throughout the ordeal, she'll want no other! Now, what say you, Dr. Enys?"

Dwight sat down at the desk and nodded.

"If we chance to be home by that time, then I will be honored to attend on your wife; you have my word, Williams."

The Welshman howled in delight and bent to clasp Dwight's shoulder.

"Thank you, my friend!" he acknowledged gratefully, "you have my eternal gratitude. Now, get up and let us take the air with the rest of the crew; the Devil himself will find this cabin unendurable!" 

Dwight laughed and shook his head, pressing his palm to his forehead in a futile attempt to cool himself. 

"No, no; I really must finish reading this chapter, Williams," he protested reluctantly. Truth be told, the cabin's stiffening heat was starting to affect his brain, and the open air seemed seductively inviting. Dwight sighed reluctantly and squared his shoulders; some things simply had to be done, "You go, and I shall join you as soon as I am done; you have my word."

Williams scrutinized him suspiciously for a moment and then, deciding that the surgeon was trustworthy enough in his promises, nodded somewhat dejectedly.

"Very well," he said, shrugging, "if you wish to be boiled to death in this wooden cage, then on your own head be it; for myself, I shall go on deck and breathe the salt and relish in the blue skies." 

Dwight burst out laughing and shook his head.

"You have the heart of a poet, Williams," he chuckled at his grinning friend, "now get out of my cabin and leave me to my gangrene."

Williams raised his hands in surrender and turned to the door, winking at the doctor over his shoulder before disappearing into the belly of the ship. Dwight could hear the thudding of his boots as he climbed the ladder, and the merry tune he whistled as he made his way upwards carried all the way down to the hold. 

The surgeon smiled and pulled the book towards him; it was high time he finished his reading.

***

He dreamed of her that night.

She was in his arms again, in that bleak room in Falmouth; pressed against him wantonly, her naked thigh resting on his hip, her belly flat and warm against his side. Her petal lips against his ear, she breathed her sighs into his body and arched her back when he turned his head to meet her mouth.

"I love you," she muttered brokenly, her lower lip caught between her pearly teeth, "I love you; _I love you!"_

"Caroline," he uttered reverently against her collarbone, "my love; my own…"

They lay entwined, bodies coiled around each other; sheets and pillows scattered about them like sand dunes in a vast desert. He rolled them so that she ended up beneath him, laughing enticingly in his ear; her milky-white thighs embracing his waist.

"Have you really captured me, Dr. Enys?" she gasped as he joined with her, and her fingers dug into his backside, "Have you, Dr. Enys?"

_"Dr. Enys!"_

Abruptly awakened from an extremely vivid dream, Dwight started, panting. The hammock, dangerously close to being upended from the brisk movements made by its occupant, swung wildly and dangerously from the ceiling. Narrowing his eyes in the utter darkness, Dwight could scarcely make out the figure of a disheveled young man standing hesitantly in the doorway.

"What is it?" Dwight muttered, voice laden with sleep, "Am I needed?" 

"'Tis Evans, Sur," the white figure in the doorway cried out, "he's moanin' something awful! 'Tis 'is innards, Sur; 'e says they be on fire! None can get a bloody shuteye!"  
Dwight groaned and placed his head back on the pillow. _So much for sleeping._

"I'll be over directly," he said, now completely awake and alert, "Tell him I am on my way."

"Yes, Sur!" the young man touched his fist to his forehead and disappeared, leaving Dwight to dress up in privacy.

The dream was so vivid, so utterly _real;_ he could still feel Caroline's lips on his neck, her breath in his ear, her -

Dwight groaned miserably and started pulling on his breeches; he'd best forget about his dream and concentrate on the suffering sailor below; this line of thought was really unhelpful.

***

"Mr. Rudge, I must ask you to try and keep _absolutely still."_

Feet planted hard into the wooden boards, his entire right hand in a poor Midshipman's mouth, Dwight Enys swore inwardly at the poor lighting in his cabin and at the even poorer sanitary conditions in which he had to operate. He squinted hard at the strenuously quivering lips under his fingers and swore again, only this time outwardly; Rudge's eyes widened in fear.

"All under control, Mr. Rudge; all under control," muttered Dwight and turned the young man's head slightly to the left, hoping that this action will allow him to see the troubling tooth more clearly. Unbearably vexed at the whole situation and at the amount of anxiety he was surely causing the Midshipman who came to seek his help, Dwight sighed irritably and thrust out his left arm towards the damned swinging lantern and grabbed it firmly; now, under a more fixated light, he could finally see the problem.

"There!" he breathed, delighted at the success despite himself, and even flushing with it a little, "I see it! Worry not, Mr. Rudge; we will have it out in no time. I will just get my pliers."

Three days filled with various ailments, powders, tinctures, and ointments had passed since his talk with Williams, and Dwight still hadn't gotten around to finishing the chapter on gangrene prevention. What stopped him at first was the unbearable heat in his cabin; he ended up joining the rest of the crew on the upper deck, where the thin, pathetic excuse for a breeze seemed to revive him and give him relief. Then, utterly exhausted, he stumbled into bed – only to be awakened a few hours later in the middle of the night to tend on Mr. Evans, the boatswain's mate. His aching stomach turned out to be a nice combination of indigestion and constipation and Dwight, reminded against his will of Dr. Choake, was forced to prescribe a strong purge. Then, the usual complains of headaches, toothaches, scurvy, and various sexually transmitted diseases lay claim on his limited time, and the book was abandoned and remained closed on his desk. 

Dwight picked up the pliers and turned to the shivering boy.

"I will be as quick as I can, William," he said kindly and smiled, taking pity on the young man who could not be a day older than sixteen, "be brave, now." 

Halfway through the rather difficult task of pulling a disintegrating tooth out of a man's mouth, Dwight could hear footsteps approaching his door. He sighed strenuously at the impending interruption; the last thing he needed at the moment was to be distracted. When the footsteps stopped, Dwight said: "I will be with you shortly, please wait; I mustn't be interrupted right now."

A few seconds of silence and then: "I wouldn't _dream_ of interrupting you needlessly, my Good Doctor!" came in the mellow voice of Captain Ernest Harrington. 

The Captain, known among his men affectionately as 'Honest Ernie', was a slender, tall man of five and thirty, with striking features rarely seen in a man with a slightly crooked nose that bore the evidence of a rowdy Inn fight from years back. His shoulder length auburn hair was tied back with a black ribbon, and his mouth was constantly set in a half-smile, even when he was chastising his men; his character was just and constant, coupled with a sharp intellect and dry wit that often reminded Dwight of the late Francis Poldark. The men of the _Travail_ would have followed Honest Ernie in death. 

"All the more reason for you to let me concentrate on my work, Sir," said Dwight evenly and Rudge's already wide eyes, widened even further at the insolence.

"By all means, my good man!" The Captain said, and Dwight could hear him settling at the edge of his desk, "I will just wait here until you are done." Then, with an interested peak over Dwight's shoulder, he smiled at the swooning Midshipman, "Take heart, Mr. Rudge; you are in the best hands in the Navy now."

_"Mumfhh,"_ moaned young William, his eyes rolling back into his head; three seconds later, Dwight pulled out the remains of the tooth. Rudge vomited. 

"There, there, William," Dwight said kindly to the sniffling, mortified boy and placed a mug in his shaking hand, "vomiting is not uncommon in such cases. Rinse your mouth with this grog and spit; the rest you can drink." 

When Rudge departed with mumbled thanks and acknowledgments, Dwight turned to the Captain and smiled.

"Let us talk outside the cabin, while my mate, Jackland, takes care of Rudge's digested breakfast, shall we?" he asked, wrinkling his nose and gesturing with his hand. Once outside, he turned to Harrington again and asked: "What can I do for you, Sir?"

"Nothing, nothing at all, Dr. Enys, "said the older man, smiling that unassuming smile of his, "as a matter of fact, I came to tell you to wear your Number One uniform today for supper at my quarters."

Dwight's eyebrows rose to meet his hairline.

"Are we celebrating something? Is the war over?" he asked, slightly dumbfounded at the request.

Harrington laughed heartily and shook his head. 

"Sadly, no," he said, still chuckling, "the war still rages on. But we are having a little celebration tonight, my Good Doctor; so dress appropriately and come prepared to drink the finest brandy you've ever tasted."

"As you wish, Sir," said Dwight, now smiling widely himself, "are you not going to tell me of the reason for the brandy consumption?"

Harrington bent towards Dwight, as if ready to share a juice detail of gossip, and tapped the side of his nose.

"It is a secret, Enys," he whispered conspiringly and winked, "you will have to wait patiently for tonight to find out." 

Dwight laughed, raising his arms in surrender.

"Alright, alright," he said, taking a deep breath; resigned to his fate, "I shall bide good-naturedly and not mope; I promise."

Harrington slapped Dwight on the back wholeheartedly, nearly sending him flying to the floor.

"Good man!" he cried and smiled approvingly, "Good man." 

***

"-and then, _then_ , I tell him- _I tell him_ – 'My dear Mr. Allen, If you wanted the monkey to stop doing _that_ , you should only have asked!" 

Raucous laughter broke across the table, shaking the spacious Captain's quarters with its force. There were seven men at supper, six full-made officers and one Midshipman, all dressed in their finest set of uniform. Harrington sat at the head of the table, and Dwight found himself sitting to his left, between Paul Rogers, the Sailing Master, and Edwards Mathews, the Captain of Marines. Both were rather large men, and Dwight felt himself somewhat pressed for space; especially as the supper progressed, and the brandy flowed, and a stiff posture was no longer called for. Master Rogers sat leaning on his right elbow, his long feet bumping into Dwight's shins on more than one occasion; while Mathews, who was a great talker and liked to drive his argument home, kept gesturing and articulating his sentiments with his hands, and nearly slapped the surgeon once or twice. Immediately across from Dwight sat the merry and fairly loud, 2nd Lieutenant, Charles Archer; a young, stocky man of three and twenty, with sandy hair and twinkling eyes. He winked at Dwight in amusement and rolled his eyes at the surgeon's predicament, raising his half-full cup in salute and sympathy. To his right sat a young boy of 18, a promising Midshipman by the name of Robert Parks, who was nearly as tall as Williams, and twice as thin. The young man's eyes were wide with awe at this gathering of importance before him and his hand, when reaching for the cup or the fork, was constantly shaking. In fact, the shaking was so bad at times, that when Williams, who was sitting to Harrington's right, asked Parks to pass the Canary wine, Dwight was afraid the poor boy would spill it all over the tablecloth. 

The laughter began to die down and Dwight, cheeks hurting from smiling too wide and laughing too hard, reached out for his brandy. It was a pleasant evening, and the company was joyous if a tad loud. Harrington was generous with his spirits, and Dwight was beginning to feel that bubbly lightheadedness that often came with a slight overindulgence of drink. Warmth settled in his cheeks, flushing his skin and burning his lips. He decided to call it a night and stop drinking, in case his attentions were needed in the upcoming hours. It certainly wouldn't do to have the only surgeon on the frigate intoxicated beyond propriety.

Parks, who's been sitting quietly throughout most of the evening and no doubt mustering courage to speak, cleared his throat; all men turned to look at him.

"Please, Sir," he addressed Harrington, and Dwight was proud of the boy for not cowering under the weight of the officer's gaze, "will you not tell us the occasion we are celebrating tonight? I, for one, am eager to know." 

"And I!" echoed Archer loudly, his smile infectious, "Do tell us, Sir!" 

Harrington regarded the Midshipman with his approving half-smile and nodded.

"It is a fine question you ask, Mr. Parks," he told the young man, pointedly ignoring the flush that rose in Parks' cheeks at the praise, "and so I shall tell you. You see, a few days back Mr. Williams here brought it to my attention that I have done our Good Doctor a great disservice."

Dwight, surprised at being suddenly singled out, started and nearly dropped the fork he was idly fingering.

_"Me,_ Sir?" he asked in astonishment, combing his mind frantically to try and recall the fancied offense and finding none.

_"You,_ Sir," nodded Harrington cheerfully at the befuddled doctor. He lifted his eyes to find the rest of the men sharing the same look of curious puzzlement.

"Allow me to explain," He began, "you all, of course, remember our brief anchorage in Falmouth a month back. Well, during that brief time, our blessed surgeon- _pray, do not_ blush, _Dr. Enys_ – our _blessed_ surgeon applied for a short leave –"

 

_"- Oh, no,"_ muttered Dwight, turning as red as the wine on the table.

_"Oh yes,_ my Good Doctor!" crowed Harrington, beyond delighted, "Yes! Stop being so mortified, Enys; all present here think you the noblest and dedicated of men, so let us have the pleasure of congratulating you!"

Dwight glared at Williams, who was looking slightly uneasy and fidgeting in his seat.

"James, did we not agree on _discretion?"_ he hissed, frowning.

"Come, come, Doctor," cried Harrington, thumping on the table, "do not be so angry with our poor Mr. Williams, he only wishes you well; as we all do!"

"It's true, Dwight!" the Welshman cut in, finally seeing an opportunity to argue his case, "It was all kindly meant; you must forgive me, I just couldn't keep the delightful news to myself!"

"What news? _What News?"_ Shouted Master Rogers above the din, now all too anxious for the gossip, "Tell us, Captain; we are all anticipation!" 

Silence swept through all present as they looked at Harrington, who in turn fixed his eye on the surgeon; the half-smile tilting upwards quizzically. Dwight sighed, shrugged, and nodded reluctantly. 

Harrington slapped both palms on the table.

"Well, Master Rogers; the news is that we must make merry, and we must rejoice, for we, my dearest friends, are in the presence of a _bridegroom."_

A beat of stunned stillness – and then the Captain's quarters erupted in jubilant exclamations, delighted cheers and astonished cries and poor Dwight was congratulated by hard thumps on the back, vigorous shaking of the hands, and one rather violent tousle of his tresses; even Parks rose from his seat, smiling widely and offering his hand for a warmhearted shake. Dwight bore this attention bravely, letting himself be shaken and stirred and driven from side to side like a slope out at a temperamental sea. The men were happy – happy for _him_ – and that in turn made _him_ happy; and then - grateful, and humbled, and deeply touched.

Harrington rose from his seat, and the rest of the men resumed theirs. 

Very deliberately, with great artistry and pomp, he poured himself a glass of brandy; signaling that the men should do the same with an amused lift of his left eyebrow. When all glasses were full, and the attention was back on him, Harrington cleared his throat and raised his drink.

"Here is to our dear doctor and his – what is your wife's name, Enys? Tell us, man; so we can toast your conjugal bliss."

Amidst the delighted laughter, Dwight chuckled and shook his head.

"Caroline," he said, smiling brilliantly, "her name is Caroline."

"You should all ask Enys to show you his locket later," Williams chimed in, winking naughtily at Dwight, "I'll wager you've never seen a lovelier woman in all of England!"

Before Dwight had a chance to do more than blush, Harrington stomped his foot on the floor to regain the wandering attention of his men.

"Hush now, Mr. Williams; we are here to toast the man's happiness, not drool on a painting of his pretty wife!"

All men laughed, including Dwight, and Williams' laugh was the loudest, and the finest; all the more so for being the instigator of this merry gathering.

Harrington cleared his throat again, and once more raised his glass. One by one, the other men rose from their seat and, with a stiff rigor so very distinctive to the Navy, raised their glasses in salute. 

"To Dwight and Caroline," cried Harrington in a clear voice, and his typical half-smile was sincere and affectionate, "May they sail in calm waters all their lives."

"To Dwight and Caroline!" echoed the men, their voices ringing true and bouncing off the wooden walls of the cabin, and straight into Dwight's open heart. Outside, on the upper deck, music was being played. The fiddle, and bagpipes, and a small, thin-toned flute, the sound of which carried above all others and rose up the mast and sailed on the air above the ship; accompanied by the notes and tunes of its companions. Dwight could hear the faint _thump, thump_ of a drum being beaten - no doubt a young Marine was roped into bringing out his instrument - and one clear voice rising in song, the lyrics of which were muffled by the wooden doors to the Captain's quarters.

"Thank you, my Good Doctor," Harrington said, turning to Dwight, "you have made us all very happy tonight," he inclined his head to the surgeon and turned to the rest of the men, "Hasn't he, lads?"

"Yes!" echoed the officers loudly, and Master Rogers slapped Dwight on the back heartily with his large hand.

"Well, then; let us walk out of here," said the Captain and gestured towards the doors, "for I am sure that the rest of the men of this fine old girl have a thing or two to say as well."

Dwight paled.

"What?" he muttered, "Who else knows-?"

"Everybody," Harrington nodded in sympathy, "Mr. Williams is the biggest gossip in His Majesty's Navy, Doctor; best accept your penalty for being a newlywed with grace, and be subjected to some bawdy congratulations from the finest sailors in England." And, with a flourish, he gestured with his hand, "After you, my good man."

In the end, they had to shove him gently out of the door. Embarrassed and uneasy at the unneeded attention, Dwight nearly tripped over his silly buckled shoes as he stumbled to the upper deck. The entire crew of the frigate _HMS Travail_ was there, from the lowest landsmen to the highest of officers; they were all on deck and all staring at him. A few lewd jeers and rowdy catcalls erupted from the crowd, and good-natured laughter ensued at the expense of the kind doctor. Unused to being under the scrutiny of so many pairs of eyes, Dwight blushed and smiled uneasily; a hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned around to see lips curled into a familiar side twist. 

Harrington nodded at him amiably, and his hand slipped down to pat Dwight on the back in reassurance. With a sly wink at the flushed surgeon, he turned to the 2nd Lieutenant standing on his right.

"Mr. Archer, do the honors if you will."

The young man clicked his heels together and inclined his head towards the Captain.

"With pleasure, Sir," he said and then turned to the men and straightened to his full height, "Alright, lads," he bellowed in his loud, clear voice, "let us hear three solid _Huzzahs_ for our dear Dr. Enys, who slipped away to tie the knot while we were anchored in Falmouth; _Hip-Hip-"_

_"Huzzah!"_ cried the men cheerfully, _"Huzzah, Huzzah!"_  
Archer turned to Dwight, beaming and laughing.

"Much better than treating a whole convent of syphilis-infested nuns; wouldn't you say, Dwight?" 

And Dwight laughed, _and laughed_ , so hard until his muscles quivered and he had to draw breath in gasps because the oxygen was running out of his brain. And pretty soon the rest of the officers were joining in, and the entire crew was infected and guffawing so hard now that Dwight was certain that the whole French Fleet will soon be able to find them due to the force of that sound that rose to the heavens and broke on the waves like great stumbling rocks. 

The fiddle was picked up again, and the flute, and the drum; men were breaking up in groups, singing songs and drinking grog to the health of the doctor who never purged or amputated needlessly. Dwight held onto the banister, still laughing joyously, and the wind caressed his fair head like a dear lover as he looked high at the twinkling stars. 

_'Better,'_ he thought, and the vision of rounded cheeks and the softest lips rose up in his mind, _'Much better.'_


End file.
